The Last Call (MMG Book 5)

by Hilliard, R. B.

  “Wow,” Kurt said as he stepped up beside me. “With the right furniture, this will be a definite money maker.”

  “In the cooler months, like this one, we could put heaters on the patio,” I suggested.

  “The water will be a huge draw,” he responded.

  I glanced over at him and smiled. “I think we’ve found it.”

  “I think you’re right,” he agreed.

  An hour later, we had a deal in place to purchase a bar.

  The drive back to the city was slow and painful. “The girls will fucking love the place, but Joss will bitch about the drive. Maybe we should check out some houses in the area? What do you think” I could just picture us all at the lake together.

  Maybe a place at the lake would cheer Isabella up?

  I was thrilled about the bar, but I was worried about my wife. Kurt dropped me at Dragonfly, so I could pick up my car. On the way home, I remembered Ibby telling me that Ellie was the one who suggested she call a lactation consultant. Normally, I would ask Piper’s advice, but Piper didn’t have kids. If Ellie knew about the lactation consultant, then maybe she would know what was wrong with my wife. I scrolled down to Max’s number and hit the call button.

  “What’s up?” Max answered. I scrambled to think of what to say. Then I started to second guess my decision. Maybe this isn’t such a good idea. “Dillon, you there?” Max asked.

  “Something’s up with Ibby and I need Ellie’s advice,” I finally blurted.

  “She’s right here. Do you want me to put her on the phone?” His sympathetic tone made me feel marginally better.

  “Can I stop by and talk to her in person?” I know I sounded desperate. I sure as hell felt desperate.

  “Yeah, man, come on by.”

  Ten minutes later I pulled into their driveway. Ellie met me at the door with a hug.

  “Come in and tell me what’s going on.”

  I spent the better part of an hour talking to Ellie about Ibby. She asked some pretty insightful questions, and by the end of the conversation we both were pretty sure we knew what was going on. My wife was depressed. I can’t say I understood the mechanics of postpartum depression, but after looking up the symptoms, I knew this was what we were dealing with. Now, all I had to do was find the solution.

  “I have a good friend, who also happens to be my obstetrician. After I had Mac, she was on top of the postpartum issue. I could ask if she would be willing to fit Isabella in for a consultation,” Ellie suggested.

  I pulled her in for a hug, and whispered, “Thank you.” She patted my back.

  “I know it’s hard. Max and I went through hell both before and after Mac’s birth.” She let out a dry laugh. “Once you have kids, everything changes, right?”

  My phone rang, and I pulled back to see who was calling. “It’s Isabella.”

  “While you’re talking to her, I’ll call Dr. Cooper and see if she can see Isabella this week. Will any time work?” Ellie asked.

  “Yes, I’ll make sure of it,” I replied, before turning my attention back to my ringing phone. I took a deep breath, and answered, “Hey, baby, what’s up?”

  “Can you please come home?” I could hear Leo screaming in the background. Not only that, but I was pretty sure she’d been crying…again.

  “Hold tight, I’m on my way.”

  Ellie appeared right as I ended the call. “Dr. Cooper can see her at ten tomorrow morning. Mac and I will be over at nine fifteen to watch the kids.”

  Her generosity was overwhelming. “I don’t know how to thank you, Ellie.”

  “Isabella is my friend, Dillon. You both are. I would expect no less from the two of you.” She gave my arm a friendly rub. “That’s what friends do for each other.”

  Before leaving, I found Max in the living room, and said, “Thanks man.”

  “Anytime,” he responded.

  I returned home to complete chaos. Leo was fussy, Milly was covered in what looked like powdered sugar, and my wife looked like a zombie. Enough was fucking enough. I sent Ibby to lie down while I cleaned up the mess.

  That night, Isabella lay in the crook of my arm while I told her about the new bar. After that, I told her about my visit with Ellie. I held my breath and waited for her to lay into me about minding her business, but all I got was silence. After a few minutes, I let out a frustrated sigh. Ibby was sound asleep.

  Tomorrow was going to be interesting to say the least.

  * * *

  Isabella

  “I am not depressed, Dillon. I’m simply overwhelmed,” I tried to explain for the umpteenth time.

  “I know you’re overwhelmed. That’s why we’re going to see the doctor,” he calmly replied.

  While I was at home losing my mind yesterday, my husband was conspiring with Ellie behind my back. I didn’t want to go to the damn doctor. I wasn’t depressed, I was simply exhausted. I was also angry. Part of me knew that Dillon just wanted to help, but another part just wanted him to back off and let me figure it out for myself.

  “I’m overwhelmed because my child won’t sleep. I’m overwhelmed because my child wants to eat every five minutes. I’m overwhelmed because my husband won’t mind his damn business!” I shouted. A look of hurt appeared on Dillon’s face, and I instantly wanted to take it back. “Dillon–” I called out as he turned to leave.

  He turned to face me and I could practically feel the frustration pouring from his body. “You can blame it on him,” he nodded at Leo who was asleep on the bed, “but we both know it’s more than that. Other than to nurse, you barely touch him. He’s not bonding for a reason, Isabella. And don’t even get me started on Milly. She cries herself to sleep almost every night because she misses you. I miss you. So for us and for the sake of our family, I need you to get your ass in that car and let me take you to this appointment, okay?” My eyes welled with tears. Was it really this bad? Dillon sighed, and then started in my direction. I could tell that he wanted to comfort me, but the damage was done.

  I held up my hand and waited for him to stop. I didn’t want him to hold me and tell me it was alright. Clearly it wasn’t. Choking back my emotions, I said, “Give me a minute to get ready.” When I reached the bathroom, I turned on the water and prayed it would muffle the sound of my sobs.

  Half an hour later, I emerged from the bathroom dressed and ready to go. When I saw Ellie on the sofa with Leo in her arms and Mac and Amelia by her side watching cartoons, I fought back another wave of tears. Ellie made it look so easy. Well, it wasn’t easy. It was impossibly hard. At that moment, I hated her.

  Dillon barely said a word to me on the way to the doctor’s office. It was like we were complete strangers. In the waiting room, he played with his phone while I stared off into space. The whole time I kept thinking about Ellie and the kids. By the time the nurse called me back I was a mess of mixed up emotions.

  “Do you want me to come with you?” Dillon asked. I thought about telling him no, but at the last second nodded my head yes.

  The nurse took all of my information and then stepped aside when the doctor appeared.

  “Good morning, I’m Dr. Cooper. You must be Dillon and Isabella.” She held out her hand and I shook it. After Dillon shook her hand, she dove right in. “I understand you’re feeling out of sorts. As you know, this is quite normal after giving birth.”

  “I’m simply tired,” I told her.

  She laughed. “Well that’s certainly understandable. I was exhausted after all three of my deliveries. After my second child was born it was especially bad. He wasn’t big on sleep and was hungry all the time, therefore, I rarely slept. I was short tempered, cried all the time, and could barely stand the sight of food. It was a very trying time.” Dillon’s eyes cut to me and then back to the doctor. He didn’t have to say what he was thinking because it was written all over his face.

  “What happened?” Dillon asked.

  “Being a doctor, you would think I would have figured out what was wrong with me.” She sh
ook her head. “I thought I just needed to try harder, that eventually it would all snap into place. It didn’t. In fact, it only got worse. When one of my colleagues diagnosed me with postpartum, I laughed, but then I started to self-evaluate, and realized that all of the symptoms were there.” The entire time she spoke, her eyes never left mine. “Are you sleeping?” I shook my head no. “Are you eating?”

  “Barely,” Dillon responded. I glared at him and he shrugged.

  “Are you sad, agitated, or frustrated on a regular basis?” I could feel my husband’s eyes boring into me.

  “I’m just tired,” I repeated.

  She nodded her head in understanding. “How much sleep would you say you’re getting each night?”

  “I don’t know, maybe four hours?”

  “Four nonconsecutive hours,” Dillon clarified.

  “And are you opposed to bottle feeding?”

  “I’d like to breast feed for at least six months,” I told her.

  “What do you feel about supplementing between feedings?”

  “I’m not sure. Won’t that confuse him?”

  “Not if you do it temporarily,” she answered.

  “I’m not sure I understand.”

  “Before I jump to a diagnosis, I want to try something. Would you be willing to experiment with me?”

  “Explain,” Dillon ordered. I shot him another dirty look. This time he ignored me.

  “I want you to try something. On the way home, I want you to stop off at the grocery store and pick up some formula.” As I opened my mouth to protest, she held up her hand. Hear me out before you say no. Do you have bottles at home?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you have a breast pump?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. Instead of breast feeding when you get home, I want you to pump.” She turned to Dillon. “While she’s pumping, I want you to feed your son a bottle of formula. Trust me, if he’s hungry enough he’ll eat it.” She turned back to me. “After you pump, crawl into your bed and go to sleep.” She explained further, “Sleep deprivation can cause depression, loss of appetite, and anxiety, among other things. I could send you away with pills, but I’m not sure that’s the answer. For the next three days, I want the two of you to work in tandem. “I need her to get six consecutive hours of sleep each night. This means that you will have to step up, Dad,” she told Dillon. “Work out the timing between the two of you, but make sure that every other feeding is formula, especially the night feedings. If you don’t see drastic changes in your mood after three days, call me and we’ll regroup, okay?”

  We thanked the doctor. After checking in with Ellie to make sure the kids were okay, we headed to the grocery store. Just the thought of sleep made me giddy. Dillon and I still weren’t talking, but that was okay. We had a plan.

  Leo was still asleep when we got home. Dillon took him up to his crib while I stayed downstairs with Amelia, Mac, and Ellie.

  “I know you’re mad and I’m sorry,” Ellie said.

  “I was mad, but I’m not anymore, and I’m sorry, too. You’re just trying to help.”

  “Did it help?” she asked.

  “We’ll see.” I told her the abbreviated version of what the doctor said.

  “That’s great news, Isabella. At least, it’s progress.”

  “What if it doesn’t work?”

  Ellie squeezed my hand. “Then you call Dr. Cooper and try something else.”

  After Ellie and Mac left, I pulled out the pump and asked Amelia if she wanted to hang out and watch cartoons in the bedroom with me. Her enthusiastic response made my heart hurt. It also made me realize how much I’d been neglecting her.

  That night Leo took the bottle of formula with very little fuss. I didn’t know whether to be sad or relieved. Dillon was on night duty, so he planned on sleeping upstairs with the kids. After a long, hot bath, I crawled into bed. The room seemed so empty without Dillon in it. As I stared at the baby monitor, I thought about what the doctor had said this morning.

  “Turn off the monitor, Isabella, and let your husband handle it.”

  It wasn’t that I didn’t think Dillon could handle it. I knew he could. I just felt so…disconnected. I quickly flipped on the monitor, and thought, I’ll listen just for one second.

  Dillon’s voice came through loud and strong, and I realized he must be sitting next to the monitor in the rocking chair. “The bird song?” Dillon asked.

  “Birds,” Amelia answered. He began to play his guitar and I immediately recognized Bob Marley’s Three Little Birds. I tried to remember the last time I’d heard him play. I was pretty sure it was over a month ago when Meltdown came to town. Dillon’s deep, rich voice poured through the monitor as he sang how everything was going to be alright. Amelia’s sweet voice sang along with him and my heart melted into a puddle of love. I listened until the song was over before turning off the monitor.

  Please let everything be alright, I thought as I drifted off to sleep.

  That night I got seven consecutive hours of sleep. The next morning I woke up feeling like a new person. I knew that I wasn’t out of the woods yet, but at least I was beginning to see my way through the trees.

  Baby steps.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Cas and Sarah

  ‡

  Cas

  “Babe, have you seen my boots?” I called from the bedroom. I was supposed to be at a meeting at LASH ten minutes ago and couldn’t find my damn boots.

  “You are not working today, Cas Ashford!” Sarah shouted from the kitchen. “I’m about to make pancakes and we have a party this afternoon!” She sounded pissed. I poked my head around the corner and she shot me a dirty look. “I mean it. No work today,” she warned. I loved it when she threatened me with a spatula.

  “Sorry, babe, but I have a quick meeting at LASH. It shouldn’t take long. Afterwards, I’ll catch up with you at MMG.” From the scowl on her face, I could tell she was less than thrilled with my response.

  “I’ve barely seen you since Vegas, Cas.” I felt bad for neglecting my girl, but things were heating up at the office.

  Grabbing the spatula from her hand, I set it on the counter before pulling her in and wrapping my arms around her. “I know and I’m sorry. I promise to make it up to you later.” I kissed her pouty lips. Then I swatted her on the ass and headed for the entry hall where I discovered my boots. After putting them on, I headed back to the kitchen for one more kiss, and found my wife staring intently at her phone. “Is everything all right?”

  “Huh? Oh, yes, it’s fine. Go to your meeting. I’ll see you later at MMG.” One minute she was pulling me forward and the next she was pushing me away. I tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear and felt better when she gave me a genuine smile.

  “See you soon,” I said, and gently touched my lips to hers.

  “Okay,” she sighed. Her blue eyes twinkled and I couldn’t help but kiss her again. Before I missed the meeting altogether, I was out the door and heading for my truck.

  I meant it when I said I’d make it up to her later. As for now, I had to get to the office. As planned, Garrett and Adam tailed Garrison’s delivery truck yesterday. Garrett reported in last night that they’d ended up at a huge warehouse in the middle of bumfuck South Carolina, somewhere on the outskirts of Spartanburg. They gave Bobby the address and we were meeting this morning to see what he’d found.

  As I entered the building, Marty greeted me from behind his desk. “Good morning, Mr. Ashford. Everyone’s waiting in conference room A for you.”

  “We only have one conference room, Marty.”

  “I know, but don’t you think conference room A sounds more professional than just plain old ‘the conference room?”’ he asked.

  “No,” I replied. I heard him huff as I turned the corner and chuckled to myself. This guy was definitely an odd duck.

  The gang was all present. Once everyone was seated, Garrett recounted the trip to South Carolina with Adam. Then he turned the
floor over to Bobby.

  “The building is registered as Ambling Enterprise. Ambling is listed as a storage facility owned by a man named Dirk Deeton.”

  “Good porn name,” Tut interjected. Everyone, including myself, laughed.

  “When I looked into Dirk Deeton I found nothing particularly notable in his past. It’s curious that he owns the company when he appears to barely have two pennies to scrape together. His credit history and background report suggest that Dirk has only been sporadically employed, has few, if any, material assets, and has difficulty paying his bills on a timely basis. Now, here’s where it gets interesting. Dirk lives in a house priced at just shy of a million dollars. The house is owned by a man named Bart Carlson. Does that name ring anyone’s bell?”

  “Let me guess, he’s related to John Holmes,” Gage joked. Again, we all laughed. Apparently, no one had heard of Bart.

  “Why, who is he?” Max asked.

  “Bart Carlson is Cami Garrison’s brother,” Bobby informed.

  “And there you have the connection,” I stated.

  “I found no employment-based connection between Garrison and Carlson, but on the fifteenth of each month, Cami Garrison drops fifty grand from her personal checking account into her brother’s bank account.”

  “Nice,” Tut drawled. “Do we know why?”

  “Not yet, but my bet is that Garrison is using Deeton, through Deeton’s connection with Carlson, to cover up some sort of illegal activity.”

  “So what next?” Gage asked.

  “You heard J.D., we can’t do shit without proof,” Max stated. “Right now, all we have is a handful of suspicions, but nothing we can act on.”

  “I’m not sure that’s true,” Bobby said. All eyes turned to him and he explained, “Something about the footage we took of Garrison’s the other day bothered me, so I went back over it this morning. Look at this.” He pulled up the video and waited for Adam to turn off the lights before projecting the footage onto the wall. The delivery truck pulled in and parked. We watched the guy unload, reload, and drive off. A minute or so later, a guy on a motorcycle shot around the corner from the back of the building. Bobby fast forwarded the clip to later in the day when another motorcycle shot from the back of the building.